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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257359">Rainy Season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByAStream/pseuds/ByAStream'>ByAStream</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Relationship Problems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByAStream/pseuds/ByAStream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After three failed attempts at adoption and being rejected as foster parents, your marriage to Natasha is starting to fall apart. Determined to save your marriage, you and Natasha embark on a journey of acceptance for the things you can’t change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rainy Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a Tumblr request</p><p>Find me on tumblr: jbbarnesnnoble.tumblr.com</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The clinking of dishes in the sink and the sound of running water were the only sounds in the house. A plate sat in the microwave, waiting for someone you knew wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. She’d been on a mission for three weeks. You’d had a fight before she left. You knew from Bucky that they had returned that morning. The light caught your ring, shining brightly under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. You sighed. It hadn’t always been like this. The stretches of time she’d spend at the compound rather than the home the two of you shared. The fights, the shrinking away from any kind of touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You had met Natasha at a coffee shop. Such a cliche, but it was how you’d met. You had been having the morning from hell. It was a Saturday, but that meant nothing when it came to your work. You had things to get done that kept piling up. Someone had bumped into her, causing her to spill her coffee on you and the papers you’d had scattered on the table. The two of you had gotten to talking and before you knew it, you had her number and a date. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, you’d been married for three years and you were watching her fade away from you. You heard the door open and close, but you didn’t bother saying anything. You focused on the dish you’d been washing for the past five minutes. She came into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No hello?” she asked. You paused for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t hear you come in,” you said. She scoffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You and I both know that’s a lie,” she said, walking over to the microwave. She opened it to see what you’d made, a simple lasagna. She scrunched her nose before going to the fridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do we have anything else?” she asked. Your grip tightened on the plate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Natasha. You’ve been away. I had a long day. Forgive me for heating up the lasagna I froze,” you snapped. You couldn’t read her expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve had a long day? I just got home from a three week mission. Is it too much to ask that my wife make something other than a frozen lasagna? That I get more than silence when I walk in the door?” she yelled. You dropped the plate, ignoring it as it shattered in the sink. You turned the water off before turning to face her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Natasha. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had a long day. You don’t have a monopoly on hardship in this relationship,” you said, keeping your voice low and even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said I did,” she replied. You raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You implied it,” you said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she said with a glare. You weren’t sure how it had gotten this bad. It was as if the fight from three weeks had picked right back up. You didn’t want to deal with it or her in that moment. You knew you would end up saying something you’d regret. You went to grab your wallet and keys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” she asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out. Don’t wait up. Welcome home, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” you replied. You couldn’t deal with her. Not like this. She was looking to fight and you knew it. There was a time in your relationship where you would never leave a fight unresolved, but you needed to cool off before you said something you truly regretted. You found yourself at Mo’s, a dive bar in town that was crawling with a mix of locals who were regulars and students from the local university. There was an odd mix of people in the bar. It was why you liked it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh-oh, I know that look. Meri, get this woman a whiskey on the rocks and an order of sticks,” Beth said when you sat down at the bar. Beth owned the bar with her wife Merilee, taken over from Merilee’s father, Mo. Beth was older, in her sixties. She and her wife had been together for years and got married as soon as it was legal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spill kid, what happened?” she asked as Meri set your whiskey down, handing one to Beth as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had a big fight, I told you about it. She came home today. I made lasagna. She got upset about the lasagna,” you said. Beth tutted and gave you a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t about the lasagna, kiddo,” she said. You sighed. You knew that. You knew it was about more than the lasagna. About more than your work schedule or hers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do anymore. We don’t even sleep together anymore. I sleep in the guest room, have for weeks now,” you admitted. Beth looked at you with a sad smile. You used to work at Mo’s when you were in college. She’d seen your relationship with Natasha grow and change over the years. She adored the pair of you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried counseling?” she asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the nail in the coffin isn’t it? You go to marriage counseling to admit it’s over,” you said glumly. She shook her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you something, kiddo. Meri and I have been through counseling. Did us a world of good. We weren’t communicating our needs and it spiraled. There was a time we almost split up,” she said. You looked at her in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you two are so happy,” you sputtered. She laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never know what people are going through. We have our rough patches. Every couple does. Some just need help working through them. Sometimes, ending things is for the best. Other times, it works out. You won’t know unless you try,” she said. You sat there, thinking about her words as she went around the bar checking in on people. You hadn’t looked at your phone since you walked out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across town, Natasha sat at the table, eating lukewarm lasagna alone. She never could figure out the right amount of time to let it heat up for. Somehow, you always managed to do it perfectly. She swore you were magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew she hadn’t been fair, but there was so much weighing on her lately. Between the team and the two of you continually struggling with the adoption process. Last time the two of you had been about to sign the papers when the mother backed out. It had devastated both of you, but Natasha put on a brave face, for you. She had been gutted. She couldn’t get pregnant and you had no interest in being pregnant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adoption had always been the goal but the pair of you hadn’t had luck. The state had denied your application to be foster parents on the grounds that Natasha’s job would endanger the children, no matter how much the pair of you argued that you had the means to protect the children, no matter how many people argued on your behalf. Adoption through a private agency was your only option. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew it tore you apart. You wanted to adopt. You wanted to be a foster parent to help those kids who couldn’t be with their families for various reasons. And she couldn’t give you that. She was the reason you couldn’t. She blamed herself even if you wouldn’t. She knew she was pulling away, that she hadn’t been fair to you. .She wasn’t surprised when Clint walked in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you Natasha. You love that woman. So do you want to tell me why you asked Tony about a divorce lawyer?” Clint asked, grabbing an apple from the counter and leaning against it. Natasha sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s not happy,” she said. Clint raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did she say the words ‘Natasha I’m not happy, I want a divorce?’ or are you jumping to that conclusion without talking to her like an adult?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try me, Tasha. Make me understand. Because you two have been off for months now. She never goes to the compound anymore. She didn’t come last time you came to the farmhouse. What’s going on?” Clint asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had an adoption lined up,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Had...so what happened this time?” he asked. She sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What always happens. The mother decided to keep the child. Which is her right. I respect that. I just...I wish it didn’t hurt so bad. Our application to be foster parents was rejected because of me. I’m the problem,” Natasha said, her voice cracking. She was good at hiding her emotions, to a fault. Clint pulled her into a hug as she broke. He had only seen Natasha breakdown once since they had met.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It will work out. You know how I know? Because I know the two of you. You two are two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. Have you talked about counseling?” he asked. Natasha shook her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel like that’s admitting we can’t work it out,” she replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not, Tasha. It’s admitting you need help communicating with each other and that’s okay. You two can’t keep living like this. Bucky let it slip that she mentioned she’s been sleeping in the guest room. He said she shut down after saying that and changed the subject. He said he’d just asked how the new bed was that the two of you got...Tash, how long has she been sleeping in the guest room?” Clint asked. Natasha ran a hand through her hair and sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About a month? I don’t know anymore, to be honest. I stopped counting days after the first week,” she admitted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any reason why?” he asked. Natasha looked down. Vulnerability wasn’t something Natasha Romanoff often showed. Clint could see the pain on her face clear as day.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had a fight. The adoption fell through, we had another fight and then the mission. I thought...maybe she’d start sleeping in our room again, while I was gone. That I’d come home and we’d be okay,” she told him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you know what you need to do,” he said. Natasha nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light in the living room was still on when you walked in a little past one in the morning. You’d had one drink and spent the rest of your time talking with Beth. You knew what you had to do. You didn’t want to lose what you had with Natasha. Not in the slightest. You looked at her as you put your keys in the dish by the door. You knew she’d been crying. Her eyes were still red-rimmed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” you said, your voice soft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she replied, her voice raspy. You walked toward her, finding yourself sitting beside her on the couch and pulling her toward you. She wrapped her arms around you. The two of you sat in silence, holding on to one another as if the other would disappear if you let go. It was the first time in a while you had held Natasha without her recoiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You remembered that first time she pulled away when you went to touch her. It was after the second adoption fell through, six months before. The two of you had tried three times to adopt. That was ignoring the agencies that had denied you out of the gate because of who Natasha was. You had been attempting to adopt since the start of your marriage, knowing it could take a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two of you sat in the office of the agency that had finally agreed to work with you. The person assigned to your case had a sad smile on her face as she welcomed you into her office. It reminded you of the last time the two of you had been there, receiving bad news.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this. Ms. Carson has decided against putting the child up for adoption through the agency,” Catrina said. Your shoulders slumped as you looked to Natasha who had a blank expression. You moved to hold her hand but she pulled away from you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, what now?” you asked, your voice breaking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You go back on the list,” Catrina said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was it because of me?” Natasha asked, breaking her silence. Catrina was quiet for a moment. You knew no matter what she said next, that the answer was yes. Last time this had happened, the birth mother reached out. Saying it was nothing personal, but her family thought it wasn’t safe for the baby. Safe. As if Natasha was a danger, you thought bitterly. There would be no where safer for the child than your home. You maintained a suite at the compound, but your primary residence was a home not far from there, with more security features than anyone could ever imagine. You and Natasha had decided early on that you needed your space as a couple away from the compound, especially once you brought children into the equation. You never counted on it being that difficult. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Leaving the agency, you tried once more to take her hand, only to have her pull away. You sighed as you got into the car. The pair of you were silent on the drive home. You pretended you couldn’t hear her cry when she closed the door to the bedroom. You sat at the kitchen table, pouring yourself a drink, losing yourself in your thoughts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You imagined a life where you weren’t shut down at every turn. At least two kids, didn’t matter if it was a girl and a boy, two boys, or two girls. Playing sports, learning instruments, teaching them to defend themselves. Maybe one becomes a teacher, another joins the team. Or maybe one decides they want a music career. In your dreams, you get approved to be foster parents. You weren’t a superhero like Natasha, but giving kids a safe place to live? You could do that. You could help like that. The two of you had just started the process of getting approved for that. You saw no reason why they would reject you, especially when you knew there were truly awful people out there who were foster parents. It was something that angered you when you dwelled on it too long. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were pulled from your thoughts when Natasha started playing with your hair. She hadn’t done that in months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to talk, but I think we need to sleep first,” you murmured. She yawned before nodding. You stood up, taking her hand when you did and helping her up. You led her to your shared room. For the past month, you had only entered to change clothes and shower. Natasha didn’t protest as you helped her into pajamas before changing yourself. You pulled back the covers for her before moving around to your side of the bed. It was a rare side of Natasha, a side you usually saw after rough missions where she was too tired to function properly. You pulled her close, falling asleep shortly after her breathing evened out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the morning light streamed through the blinds, you woke to find Natasha still fast asleep, sprawled across you. You kissed the top of her head before extricating yourself from the bed. It was no easy feat to escape the bed of Natasha Romanoff. You managed to get out without waking her, something you took as a personal victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You headed to the bathroom, trying not to let your thoughts wander. You weren’t naive. You knew things weren’t magically fixed. As you washed your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. You hadn’t been sleeping well. The previous night had been the best sleep you’d had since before you’d started sleeping in the guest room. You headed toward the kitchen, glancing back at Natasha’s sleeping form before leaving the room. You knew breakfast was in order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Natasha emerged from the bedroom a half hour later, she smiled when she saw you finishing cooking. You plated an omelette, putting a few pieces of bacon, some homefries, and toast on the plate before bringing it to the table along with yours. Her toast had her favorite jam spread on it. You glanced up when you heard her footsteps against the hardwood floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning sleepyhead,” you said with a light laugh. It felt normal. But both of you knew it wouldn’t last long. Anxiety twisted in your stomach at the thought of the conversation you needed to have. You knew this was make or break. You weren’t sure what you’d do if she didn’t agree with the idea of counseling. You weren’t sure if you two would make it to your fourth anniversary if you didn’t go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” she said, sitting down. You set a glass of orange juice down beside her coffee before sitting down. The two of you ate in silence for a few minutes before you decided to take the plunge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we should see a marriage counselor,” you said. Natasha took a bite of her food as she looked at you, head slightly tilted with a small smirk on her face. You knew that look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this breakfast to butter me up to be open to the idea?” she asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast is my apology for letting you walk out that door for a three week mission without saying ‘I love you’,” you said. The two of you didn’t sit down for breakfast often. Usually it was bowls of cereal or oatmeal as you rushed around getting ready for the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we should. I was thinking. And I talked to Clint,” she said. You raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you telling me Clint Barton suggested we go to marriage counseling? We are talking about the same Clint Barton who on the Fourth of July thought it was a good idea to try to launch a firework from his bow, that Clint Barton?” you asked. She laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He may do stupid things, but he had a point. Everyone’s noticed something is wrong. We just...don’t want to admit it to ourselves,” she said. You nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beth, she uh, she gave me a recommendation. She and Meri went to counseling, apparently still go every once in a while,” you said, sounding unsure. She nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make the call. If they trust this counselor, that’s enough for me,” she said. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Natasha to have dinner with the two women. They had never had children of their own, but it wasn’t uncommon for a teenager kicked out by their family to find their way to the older women. They owned the bar in town and a good portion of their staff had at one time or another been housed by the women for one reason or another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another month found you in your fourth session. Natasha had requested to be kept off longer missions for the time being unless it was unavoidable. The first session had been your standard getting to know you session. The following two hadn’t seen much progress. You both beat around the bush on the elephant in the room. Dr. Reynolds had you write down questions you wanted to ask each other. Yours went in one dish, Nat’s in another. You stared at Dr. Reynolds when she read Nat’s question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon? Can you repeat that?” you asked, unsure if you heard her correctly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you still love Natasha if you never are able to have children or foster?” she read. You looked at Natasha. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nat?” you asked, your voice soft. She looked down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you want to adopt. I want to too. But every time we’ve tried,” she said. You moved to cup her cheek as she turned to look at you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Natasha. I love you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. I’d love you if your skin turned green and your sprouted goat horns and an extra five eyes. Yes, I want children. And I still believe it will happen for us. But if it doesn’t, that doesn’t change my love for you. Some things are out of our control. Does it change your feelings for me if we don’t have kids? If we never get to be foster parents?” you asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No...but I’m the one who’s the reason why it’s fallen through every time. I’m the reason why we can’t be foster parents,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I don’t care! Natasha, I love you. And that’s not changing. The fact that you think I’d leave you because of things that are out of our control, that hurts. That hurts. I know it’s a dealbreaker for some people, but Natasha, you are my person. I don’t walk away just because life isn’t going how we hoped. One day, we’ll expand our family. I know it. Maybe it won’t be how we planned, but...it will happen,” you said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel like I’m holding you back,” she admitted. You shook your head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t. Do you trust me?” you asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then believe me when I tell you I’m not going anywhere,” you said. It was a draining session. The pair of you were drained by the time you walked in the door. Natasha held up three menus and you pointed to one at random. She nodded and went to order your dinner, knowing it’d be a bit before the food arrived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of you ate in silence. It had been a long day. You and Natasha had agreed in counseling to give it one more try with adopting. You weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak, and you knew she was feeling the same way. After dinner, you went for a walk with Natasha. This time, you were keeping the news about the adoption to yourselves, not wanting to get your hopes up. The agency had reached out saying they had someone who had chosen the pair of you to adopt their child. You could only hope they wouldn’t back out. You had met with the woman and her boyfriend, that morning, two young kids barely out of high school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you choose us?” you asked after you had been introduced to Michael and Danielle. They shared a look and he squeezed her hand in comfort. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When we saw you two on the list...we knew there was no other option. Our child will be safe with you two. We know it. They’ll be loved and well cared for. Dani...she didn’t have the best childhood,” Michael said. Natasha’s brow furrowed. Recognition flashed on her face and you gave her a confused look. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were in the Red Room,” Natasha said quietly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Until a woman and her family came and saved me when I was a child,” Danielle said with a nod. You understood in that moment why they had chosen you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We aren’t ready to be parents. But we know the two of you will love and protect them,” Michael said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course we will,” you said. You dared to allow yourself to fill with hope. This time was different. You knew it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of you walked in silence, your hands laced together as you walked through the neighborhood. You smiled as you saw your neighbors in their yard with their kids, allowing yourself to imagine when it’d be you and Natasha doing that. She squeezed your hand and looked at you with a small smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You knew a child didn’t fix things, you weren’t naive. But you and Natasha had seven months. Seven months before the baby would be here. Seven months for things to fall apart with the process again, but you refused to allow yourself to think of that. The stress the process had put on your relationship was impossible to deny. But you had hope. It would work out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was another three sessions until the two of you opened up to Dr. Reynolds about the pending adoption. Neither of you had told anyone. Not Clint. Not Bucky. Not even Beth and Meri. You were both afraid that talking about it would jinx it, that Michael and Danielle would decide to keep the baby or decide that they didn’t feel comfortable with the Black Widow raising the baby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have the two of you talked about it outside of meeting with the couple?” Dr. Reynolds asked. You both nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little. We’re trying not to get too excited. We know a baby won’t fix us. We know a baby might complicate things more. But we feel like we’re heading in the right direction. This is what we’ve wanted for years,” Natasha said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared. I’m scared that we’ll allow ourselves to be excited, and the rug will be pulled out from under us again and break us. I don’t know if we can handle another heartbreak,” you admitted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a natural reaction, especially in your situation. The two of you are in a much better place than you were two months ago when you first came to see me. Don’t get me wrong, there’s always progress to be made. But you both are in a much better place,” Dr. Reynolds said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You left the appointment feeling lighter. You and Natasha decided to head to Mo’s after. The bar had good food, and you both wanted to talk to Beth and Meri. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the two of you sat down at the bar, you saw the look Beth gave her wife. You weren’t surprised when a plate of mozzarella sticks ended up in front of you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes?” Meri asked. You smiled at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been busy,” you said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are things?” Beth asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, really good,” Natasha said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, that’s why we came in. Natasha and I...we think...we think this time it’s going to work out,” you said, keeping it vague. You saw both women light up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful! You two, you deserve all the happiness this world can give you,” Meri said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think this calls for the good stuff,” Beth said, turning to find a bottle. You shook your head with a laugh as she grabbed a bottle to pour four shots. She may have been in her sixties but you knew better than to think her days of taking shots were over. The four of you clinked glasses before taking your shots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You looked over at Natasha, a smile wide on your face. Things hadn’t been easy, but life rarely was. The one thing of which you were absolutely certain of was the fact that you loved her and you would never stop loving her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seven months later, the two of you brought home your baby, your daughter. The road had been hard, but in the end, as you sat on the couch with your wife and newborn, it was worth every bump. As the baby started crying Natasha took her from your arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got her. Go take a nap. I know you had a rough few days while I was away,” she said before leaving the room. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah. This was worth it,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thought with a soft smile on your face as you stood up to head toward your room. </span>
</p>
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